Whatever their fears might be, none of Prince Marvel's party hesitated
to follow him along the path through the forest in search of the
sorcerer, and by and by they came upon a large clearing. In the
middle of this open space was a big building in such bad repair that
its walls were tumbling down in several places, and all around it the
ground was uncared for and littered with rubbish. A man was walking
up and down in front of this building, with his head bowed low; but
when he heard the sound of approaching horses' hoofs he looked up and
stared for a moment in amazement. Then, with a shout of rage, he
rushed toward them and caught Prince Marvel's horse by the bridle.

"Me! Who am I? Why, I am the great and powerful Kwytoffle! So
beware! Beware my sorcery!"

They all looked at the man curiously. He was short and very fat, and
had a face like a puff-ball, with little red eyes and scarcely any
nose at all. He wore a black gown with scarlet grasshoppers and
june-bugs embroidered upon the cloth; and his hat was high and peaked,
with an imitation grasshopper of extraordinary size perched upon its
point. In his right hand he carried a small black wand, and around
his neck hung a silver whistle on a silver cord.

Seeing that the strangers were gazing on him so earnestly, Kwytoffle
thought they were frightened; so he said again, in a big voice:

"Beware yourself!" retorted the prince. "For if you do not treat us
more respectfully, I shall have you flogged."

"What! Flog me!" shouted Kwytoffle, furiously. "For this I will turn
every one of you into grasshoppers--unless you at once give me all the
wealth you possess!"

"Poor man!" exclaimed Nerle; "I can see you are longing for that
flogging. Will you have it now?" and he raised his riding-whip above
his head.

Kwytoffle stumbled backward a few paces and blew shrilly upon his
silver whistle. Instantly a number of soldiers came running from the
building, others following quickly after them until fully a hundred
rough-looking warriors, armed with swords and axes, had formed in
battle array, facing the little party of Prince Marvel.

"Arrest these strangers!" commanded Kwytoffle, in a voice like a roar.
"Capture them and bind them securely, and then I will change them all
into grasshoppers!"

"All right," answered the captain of the soldiers; and then he turned
to his men and shouted: "Forward--double-quick--march!"

They came on with drawn swords; at first running, and then gradually
dropping into a walk, as they beheld Nerle, Wul-Takim, King Terribus
and Marvel standing quietly waiting to receive them, weapons in hand
and ready for battle. A few paces off the soldiers hesitated and
stopped altogether, and Kwytoffle yelled at the captain:

"We care," said the captain, giving a shudder, as he looked upon the
strangers. "Their swords are sharp, and some of us would get hurt."

"You're cowards!" shrieked the enraged Kwytoffle. "I'll turn you all
into June-bugs!"

At this threat the soldiers dropped their swords and axes, and all
fell upon their knees, trembling visibly and imploring their cruel
master not to change them into june-bugs.

"Bah!" cried Nerle, scornfully; "why don't you fight? If we kill you,
then you will escape being June-bugs."

"The fact is," said the captain, woefully, "we simply can't fight.
For our swords are only tin, and our axes are made of wood, with
silver-paper pasted over them."

"But why is that?" asked Wul-Takim, while all the party showed
their surprise.

"Why, until now we have never had any need to fight," said the
captain, "for every one has quickly surrendered to us or run away the
moment we came near. But you people do not appear to be properly
frightened, and now, alas! since you have drawn upon us the great
sorcerer's anger, we shall all be transformed into June-bugs."

"Yes!" roared Kwytoffle, hopping up and down with anger, "you shall
all be June-bugs, and these strangers I will transform into grasshoppers!"

So the entire party accompanied Kwytoffle into the house, where they
entered a large room that was in a state of much disorder.

"Let me see," said the sorcerer, rubbing his ears, as if trying to
think; "I wonder if I put them in this cupboard. You see," he
explained, "no one has ever before dared me to transform him into a
June-bug or grasshopper, so I have almost forgotten where I keep my
book of enchantments. No, it's not in the cupboard," he continued,
looking there; "but it surely must be in this chest."

It was not in the chest, either, and so the sorcerer continued to look
in all sorts of queer places for his book of enchantments, without finding
it. Whenever he paused in his search Prince Marvel would say, sternly:

"Go on! Find the book! Hunt it up. We are all anxious to become
grasshoppers." And then Kwytoffle would set to work again, although
big drops of perspiration were now streaming down his face.

Finally he pulled an old book from underneath the pillow of his bed,
and crying, "Here it is!" carried it to the window.

"How unfortunate! The compound I require to change you into
grasshoppers must be mixed on the first day of September; and as this
is now the eighth day of September I must wait nearly a year before I
can work the enchantment."